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“I can skip. I’ll grab a rideshare so we can take your car back. Shower you up. Get you in bed.”
I laugh softly, humorlessly. “When can we spend time together without you patching me up?”
“Hey. I told you I was planning a date. You saw the note, right?”
I’d forgotten about it by now, but yes, he did.
“Not tonight. Tonight you need more being cared for, and that’s okay. It’s okay to accept help, Blair.”
Then why does my throat burn with the thought of accepting it? Stepping away from this, from Dad, it feels like someone is squeezing a vice around my heart, and I hate every second of it.
The only thing that beats it out is the memory of Atlas’ touch. One he never holds back and infinitely supplies.
“A,” I whisper, tears filling my closed eyes and bile rising in my throat from the nausea. “Come get me, please.”
“I’m sorry,” I say for what must be the hundredth time. Atlas’ hand rubbing circles on my back is soothing, but I still have to press my face into the pillowcase while the ache in my head is persistently hanging around. I’ve taken medicine, drank my body weight in water, and I made Atlas wait in the room while I showered because I needed to feel at least a little capable.
Now, though, he’s kneeling at the side of my bed with a textbook open on the edge while he smooths his hand over my skin.
“I know you are.” His voice is soft but firm. My apologies don’t seem to aggravate him, and after every one he squeezes my nape like a silent ‘it’s going to be alright’. “Sleep, Blair.”
“I can do that on my own.”
“I know.” There’s rustling and then a soft, gentle kiss pressed to my shoulder. “I want to be here when you wake up.”
As much as I know I’m going to regret it, I turn my head and crack my eyes open. Things are blurry from how tight I’ve kept them scrunched, but I can tell his mouth is curved in that sweet smile right away.
“Why?”
This isn’t a game to Atlas. I’m not going to insult him by accusing him of using me for a dumb dare. He wants to explore this sensual side of himself, and he wants to explore it with me. Out of all the people he could find, I just don’t understand why.
He leans over, fingers combing through my hair before settling on my cheek.
“Because I love you. Because you have carried so much more than you ever should have on your shoulders. Because you protected us, protected me, from everything you could. You took that pain, and you hid it. I want it now, B. Give it up and let me hold it for a while.”
I squeeze my eyes closed again, enjoying the warmth of his hand for a few seconds before turning away. I don’t know how to share this hell with him. I don’t know who I am without the pain and the heartache and working myself to the bone.
I don’t know who I am if someone isn’t depending on me.
“Silly,” Atlas says, stroking my hair and over my shoulder. “I’m depending on you.”
Did I say that out loud?
“Yeah, you did. I think sleep is ready for you. But listen before you drift off.” A’s chest presses to my back, a heavy warmth that has the dark edges of sleep floating closer.
“This thing between us. I couldn’t have it with anyone else. All of these new feelings: they’re because of you. They’ve always been because of you.”
His lips brushing my ear and hot breath fanning my cheek and neck is the last straw. I mumble something or maybe it’s just a content rumble in my throat, but it earns me a kiss below my ear that I hardly feel as I quickly fall under the wave of sleep.
I hope the words that follow me into my dreams are more than just my imagination.
“I want you, Blair Novak. I think I always have.”
Chapter 18
Atlas
“You gonna be the liquor police tonight?” Shiloh says as we walk down the dark, rural road on the sketchy side of town.
